Insomnia (Supernatural)
by saltydean
Summary: Jack is beating himself up for the death of a security guard, and as usual, Sam is there to comfort him.


my own version of the ending of season 13, episode 6.

in which jack is beating himself up for the death of the security guard, and sam is there to comfort him.

—

It was like a hallucination. Jack had never had a hallucination, but if he did, this is what he imagined it would feel like. Like the everything, including his thoughts and mind, was spinning and he was suffocating. An uncomfortable feeling that he tried to ignore by sitting still on the chair, shoulders slumped and face buried in his arms on the wooden desk.

The feeling of anger at himself– at the world for making him such an awful person who could do as much as kill an innocent man who did nothing but try to help the situation. The rush of confidence had gotten the best of him when he blasted who he had wanted to blast– he wanted to help the situation. To be good and help Sam and Dean, but instead of blasting just the bad man, he blasted the bad man and the security guard.

Not bothering to look up when he heard new footsteps walking down the stairs into the bunker, he listened into the conversation Sam, Dean and Castiel were having. He sighed at how their voices were intentionally quiet, obviously not wanting Jack to hear.

They hate me now, don't they? Was all he could think to himself.

He didn't want to lose the only form of a family he had. He didn't want to lose the kindness and care Sam gave him, or the stories Castiel would tell him about his mom. And Dean- Dean had just started to like him. How could he have messed that up?

He shook the thoughts away as he moved his face to rest his chin on his forearm, staring blankly ahead and quietly listening to the conversation he was sure would only lower his self-esteem more, but he deserved it.

"What about the, uh..." He could practically feel Sam motioning toward him when he spoke.

"Took care of it," Dean assured, his voice lowering in attempts to be quiet.

"Good."

Jack shook his head, swallowing a lump that formed in his throat. How could Sam say that? How could he call something like that as good?

"Good? How is that good?" His voice cracked at what he said next, like saying it out loud made it more real. "I killed someone."

Before anyone could say any more to defend him, he continued. "What was his name? The guard? Did he have a family?"

"Jack, don't do this to yourself," Castiel sighed.

"No, did he?"

Silence.

Jack's eyes darted between the three men who said nothing, all suddenly realising that this must have been what Jack was telling himself all night. He regretted not trying to reassure the boy sooner.

"Yes, he did," Dean answered firmly but guiltily. The silence and Jack's oblivious thoughts were more likely to mess him up than knowing the truth would.

The Nephilim's heart dropped and he stared at the floor, blinking the tears that had pooled in his eyes away. Why was he cursed with what people kept calling a gift? He had killed a man and they were all acting like he hadn't done anything bad.

He was hurting so much from the death of someone he didn't even know. What would he do with himself if he had harmed anyone he cared about? What if it had been Castiel, not the security guard? Or Dean. Or Sam.

What if-

"Jack," Sam sighed, wishing as much as Jack did that none of this had happened in the first place.

Seeing the kid like this reminded him of what it felt like when he was only a teenager and had killed his first vampire. They were awful creatures but it at the same time, it felt like they didn't deserve to die. This was a harmless man, just trying to do his job of protecting people, that had been hurt— killed.

"It'll be okay,"

"No," he shook his head, stepping back from everyone and turning around, walking away with a hunched back.

"Jack-" Sam called, stepping forward to follow the boy, but Dean held his hand out in front of him.

"Leave him be, Sammy," He stood watching the boy that brokenly walked toward his bedroom. "He'll be okay."

Complying to his brother's suggestion, Sam stood in his place. He so badly wanted to stop the Nephilim, not wanting Jack to suffer with the horrible feeling of guilt on his own. Had Dean ever left Sam to deal with the guilt of someone's death alone? He thought back to his first few years of hunting. Dean had always been there to reassure him and stop himself from tearing his own mind apart with thoughts, so how was it fair that Jack, a motherless and fatherless teenager who hadn't been in this awful world for more than a few weeks had to deal with this on his own?

About an hour passed before Sam slammed his book down on his bedside table, realizing that the sentence he was reading was one he had read six times already. He sighed, staring at his shut door, his mind once again wondering to Jack.

Impatience getting the best of him, he pulled his long legs off the desk and getting onto his feet. Pushing the door open, he sighed and slowly started making his way down to the other side of the hallway.

The look of horror on his face when the security guard had been blasted against the pillar— the of horror on his face that remained ever since replayed in Sam's head as he neared Jack's room.

"Jack?" He whispered, slowly pushing on the slightly open door.

The light of the corridor glistened through the door and he nodded slightly, his suspicions proved to be correct when he laid his eyes on an untouched bed with no sign of Jack.

He carried on down the hall, stepping into the main area of the bunker were Jack was seated on a chair in the library, chin pressed against the desk.

"Hey, Jack," Sam smiled softly, closing the distance between them and sitting in front of him.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Jack asked, eyes glued onto the wood in front of him. The emptiness in his eyes was enough for Sam to feel guilty for leaving him alone all this time.

"I could ask you the same thing, kiddo," Sam chuckled lightly. His gentle smile soon faded when he saw how broken Jack looked.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Bad dream?" Sam questioned, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back into the chair.

Jack shook his head, not uttering a word. It was as though he was afraid that if he spoke more than a few syllables at a time, the whole world would come crashing down on him. But really, he was just afraid of what he could become— what he could do to Sam, Dean and Cas.

Sam nodded slowly. "You couldn't stop thinking?"

Jack cautiously looked up at the older boy, shocked that Sam seemed to understand.

"You know, sometimes... it helps if you talk about whatever's keeping your mind racing," Sam mentioned after a moment, when Jack chose not to respond again, and just look Sam in the eye with nothing but helplessness. "Was it about the man today?"

The teenager broke eye contact, staring at his fiddling hands that now rested on the table.

"I know you don't wanna hear it but, what happened out there... it wasn't your fault, Jack."

"It was!"

Sam was slightly started by Jack's sudden outburst but was glad Jack chose to speak.

"I'm a bad person, Sam. I'm a monster." The once empty look on his face was now replaced by fresh tears that threatened to spill from his sad eyes, making Sam more committed to proving that Jack was a good person. "I mess up everything I do. I keep letting you down. You should hate me."

"I don't hate you, and I never will. You were just trying to help," Sam's voice was promising. It was soothing to Jack. "You're not a bad person. You never let us down, alright? Hell, the fact that you're this upset about it proves that."

Embarrassed, the Nephilim wiped his wet cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, looking away from Sam who only sighed in dismay at the actions.

"Jack, it's okay," Sam leaned forward against the table, trying to make eye contact with the kid. "One bad mistake doesn't make you a bad person. You can do so much more good in the future."

"How?" His eyes reconnected with Sams' like he was finally starting to believe in the older boy.

"You're already helping out with hunts, right?" Sam mentioned reassuringly. "You're already doing great, Kiddo, and you're going to do even more."

Jack pursed his lips, looking down at his open hands, absorbing everything that came out of Sam's mouth. Sam had never lied to him. He'd always been so nice to him. So when he looked back up at Sam, he looked convinced that Sam was right.

Sam smiled sympathetically, standing up. "Come on," he motioned his hand for Jack to follow his lead. "Let's get some sleep, okay?"

Jack stood up, less reluctant than before, and followed Sam's footsteps toward the bedroom area.

"Why weren't you asleep, Sam?" Jack spoke, his eyes remaining on the grey floor that they were walking on.

"Because I was worried about you," Sam answered honestly, patting the kid's back.

Jack couldn't help the small smile that tugged on his lips, the feeling of warmth filling him. They walked in silence until they reached Jack's room.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so," Jack responded, his mood slightly less depressed than a few minutes ago. "Thank you."

"Come to me if anything, alright?" Sam smiled, placing a reassuring hand on is shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.

Jack nodded and Sam watched him get into bed, wanting to make sure he'd really be alright.

"Goodnight, Jack."


End file.
